


Roll the Dice

by KKray



Category: The Good Cop (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, TJ whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KKray/pseuds/KKray
Summary: It’s one of those universal truths. The sky is blue, New York City is crowded, and Big Tony loves to gamble.A little less well known is the fact that Big Tony is a cheat. Never bet money with him when he shuffles. Never play when he brings the cards. Never go against him unless you’ve got some sort of leverage.That’s the beauty of gambling. Yes, it requires skill and yes, it relies heavily on luck. But, when you hold all the cards, luck begins to change. The scales are tipped.The gun to the back of his son’s head seems to be adequate enough.





	Roll the Dice

It’s one of those universal truths. The sky is blue, New York City is crowded, and Big Tony loves to gamble.

 

A little less well known is the fact that Big Tony is a cheat. Never bet money with him when he shuffles. Never play when he brings the cards. Never go against him unless you’ve got some sort of leverage.

 

That’s the beauty of gambling. Yes, it requires skill and yes, it relies heavily on luck. But, when you hold all the cards, luck begins to change. The scales are tipped. 

 

The gun to the back of his son’s head seems to be adequate enough.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Tony. I thought you liked gambling!” The man took a slow sip of his whiskey. Tony glared at him. “Don’t be like that. Just because you’re playing with your son’s life shouldn’t change anything.” Goons lined the sides of the room. Exposed wiring ran across the ceiling, lighting a few bare bulbs. Spiderwebs dominated the corners. Classic intimidation tactics. Everything about Simon was classic. Tailored suit, expensive watch, smoked whiskey. “Shouldn’t be any different than when you conned me out of a couple dozen grand.”

 

He folded his arms across his chest. “Let me tell you something, Simon.” Tony smiled pleasantly. “You touch my son and I’ll force feed you your fingers one by one.”

 

The goons shifted closer. Simon tsked. “No need to get so crass, Tony. It’s just a gentleman’s game.” He swirled the ice in his drink.

 

“Isn’t kidnapping my son a little, oh I don’t know, extreme for just a friendly game?”

 

“Whatever made you think this was friendly?” Dread crashed over him. Simon was one of the dangerous adversaries the police had. There was a reason the cops had never caught him. Everything involving Simon was buried in plots and subplots. His plans had contingencies, his contingencies backups, his backups plans. His network was expansive, spanning from local thugs to corrupt politicians. He was one slippery snake, and needed to be dealt with very carefully. Tony was never one of his agents (he did have some honor after all), but their paths crossed occasionally and Tony was a fool to have ever gambled with him. 

 

“You see, Tony, you lose, I shoot you and let your boy go. You win fairly, and I’ll let you both go. You cheat, and you get to watch little Tony Junior here lose his brains. Simple, right?”

 

As if. “How do I know you’re not lying? Why would you just let me go after winning all that money?”

 

The man looked almost offended. Like Tony hurt his non-existent feelings. “I am a man of my word.” He laid a hand on his heart. “You have a reputation, Tony. Most corrupt cop the city’s ever seen? It’s enough to make a man wonder. I just want to be sure you won my money honestly. You understand. I’m an honorable man. I’m sure your son knows what that means. Although where he picked it up I have no idea.”

 

Tony glanced at TJ. The kid had been quiet through the entire meeting, and while his paternal side held hope that he had finally learned some common sense, the cop in him saw the blood in his hair, the way his eyes didn’t focus, how he depended on the man holding a gun to his head to keep him upright, and he knew that he was alone in this mess. And it was all his damn fault.

 

“Why can’t we settle this man to man? A good ol’ fist fight? Just you and me. No need to get the kid involved. If you want your money back, I’ll get it back. I’m good for it.”

 

Simon stared at him, smiling slightly, eyes dead. “If you’re good for it, then your son doesn’t have to worry, hm?”

 

If TJ wasn’t there, then it would be alright. He could charm his way out of any situation, and if he couldn’t, that’s what his trusty glock was for. Never mind that he didn’t actually have his gun with him. He could battle through the goons and make it out of the warehouse easy. Tony was a great many things and survivor topped the list. He just wasn’t quite sure where savior placed.

 

So even though it grated against his pride like a peeler to his skin, he bared his teeth and asked, “What’re you waiting for? Deal the cards already.”

 

A nondescript woman walked in the room, carrying poker chips and cards. She broke the seal and shuffled efficiently. Tony glanced at TJ again. Neither of them were restrained, but there was no way Tony could incapacitate before his son was killed. Simon took away their phones and guns when they were brought to the warehouse. Honestly. How many large, abandoned, creepy warehouses can NYC have? 

 

The woman dealt their hands. Simon smirked and took another sip of whiskey. 

 

Tony kept his face carefully neutral as he gestured. “You start.” Anything to gain an edge. 

 

“Oh no, I insist. You first.”

 

He tossed a couple chips on the table. “Two hundred.”

 

The game went on, each man raising the bid. There were two games being played, however. They sparred verbally, Tony hyper-aware that anything he let slip could potentially become fatal. If they made it through the night.

 

“How was the stint in prison? I imagine it wasn’t too difficult for you.”

 

“What can I say? I practically ran the place. Can’t have too many contacts.”

 

“Oh? Well, I’d rather leave that networking to you.”

 

“Don’t think you get to decide that.” Tony snapped.

 

He chuckled. “Don’t I? Tell me, Tony, would you have even gone to prison if you didn’t allow it? For a man with your standing and your, well, let’s call them “qualifications”, no evidence would have lasted long. So why did you go to prison?”

 

Tony tensed subtly, then forced a laugh. The man was a shark with an uncanny nose for weakness. “What can I say? A change of scenery is always nice.”

 

Simon hummed thoughtfully. “Raise I think we both know that’s not true.” The woman shuffled the cards again. “Could it possibly have anything to do with Junior? I’ve heard that the two of you have been working together recently on some cases.”

 

“Heard that, did ya? Well, a man’s gotta look out for his family.”

 

“So that’s why. Because you failed.”

 

Tony flinched. Four years after Connie passed and it still felt as sharp as the day it happened.

 

“If you couldn't protect your wife from a frankly horrible fate, what makes you think that you can with your son? That is why you’ve been working with him of course. It’s a dangerous world. Wouldn’t want your only child to be murdered like his mother. Can’t even trust him to do his job right.”

 

“That’s not true.” Fire burned in his chest but ice creeped through his veins. “TJ is the best detective in the city. A credit to his field. Ask anyone.”

 

“I suppose so.” Simon rubbed the corner of his cards. It was irritatingly easy to read the man. It’s what makes him so dangerous. Simon manipulates everything about himself so you only saw what he wants  you to see.

 

Tony was well and truly screwed. 

 

A flicker of movement caught his eye. A person, ducking underneath the window. Backup? But for Tony or for Simon? Adopting a casual air, he asked, “So, just how many goons you got stationed around here? Just the ones in the room?”

 

“If you think you can overpower me, Tony, you are quite mistaken.” Simon narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

 

He shrugged. “TJ’s respected in the force. Someone will notice him missing.”

 

“It’s a Tuesday night. Junior boy here can count his friends on one hand, and that’s being generous. Do you really think that the police force will rescue you? You’ve barely been gone three hours. You’re not that important anymore, Tony.” He looked at his cards again, staring pensively. “All in.” He pushed his chips into the middle of the table. “Come on Tony. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.” He spread out his cards. “Flush.”

 

“No, that’s good. That’s real good. But,” Tony fanned out his cards reverently, “not good enough.” Royal flush.

 

Simon’s face went completely blank. It was creepy, when Tony stopped to think about it. Even the man’s body language stopped. Just stopped. Tony couldn’t get a read on the man. Fake or otherwise.

 

The person peeked through the window. Tony slid his feet slowly under his chair. The goons watched attentively, but they were paid to wait for an order from the boss before they moved. 

 

Simon stared at him. Long enough for Tony to get alarmed and vaguely creeped out. Just before Tony broke the silence, Simon said, “You have proved yourself, Tony. Congratulations on your skill. It’s a shame that you’ll never use it again.” 

 

Tony’s heart stuttered. “What?” He started to rise but the guard on TJ raised his gun warningly, aimed at TJ’s skull. Raising his hands in surrender, he lowered himself back on the chair. “What the hell do you mean? I won, fair and square!”

 

“Of course you did. No one’s disputing that.” He opened a briefcase and briskly packed away the cards. “But I can’t forgive the money you took from me.” He motioned to the guards. “It’s nothing personal. Just think of it as a… how do I put it? An example.” He smiled at Tony.

 

The door exploded with a thunderous crash. Bullets ripped through the walls, sending Simon to the ground, yelling for his goons to get him out and kill the intruders. The one holding TJ hesitated. Tony tackled him, driving him to the ground and TJ slumped lifelessly to the side. No time to be concerned.

 

The man twisted on impact and pinned Tony down, punching him once, twice. Tony spit blood and boxed his ears. The goon reared back. Tony grinned. Eardrums were delicate. Sensing his advantage being lost, the man reached blindly for his gun. He was too far away for Tony to disarm before getting shot. Tony grabbed the chair TJ had been sitting on. As the man brought his gun up, Tony swung the chair with all his strength. It shattered and the man fell. There was no time to waste. Tony snatched the gun and bolted back to TJ. 

 

“Hey kid. We gotta move.” Simon’s goons barricaded the ruined door with the table, but even that was starting to splinter. Bullets were still bursting through the walls. He shoved the gun in his belt. Ignoring the danger behind, Tony crouched and lightly slapped his son’s cheeks. “TJ!”

 

“Dad?”

 

That was the first time TJ had spoken the entire evening. It was a beautiful sound. Tony cupped his face, forcing eye contact. “Kid.” His pupils were two different sizes and neither eye could focus. The glazed look was alarming, but Tony had to prioritize. “Can you move?”

 

“Where’re we?” The slur was a definite red flag.

 

“Creepy old warehouse. You came with me to poker night, remember?”

 

“I didn’t want...to go.”

 

Tony draped TJ’s arm around his neck. “I know, and I’m sorry. But we’re leaving. Right now. Stand up on three? One, two, three!” He hauled TJ to his feet. Who knew his beanpole of a son was actually heavy? Damn. The exit was conveniently lit up with a glowing red ‘EXIT.’ At least something was going right. They shuffled towards it. The door opened into a hallway, but no sounds of gunfire were echoing down it. Which way to go? It was a fifty fifty chance. He picked right.

 

“Talk to me, TJ.” Keeping the injured party aware and awake was vital when dealing with a concussion. “Where were you before poker? Was it at Cora’s? Remember to put the tie on the door this time.”

 

Nothing. No half-hearted protest that it was inappropriate or even a bitchy ‘that’s an infraction.’ The kid was still on his feet (barely) but completely unresponsive. They needed to get to a hospital. Now.

 

A door slammed open behind them, and a gunshot rang out. Tony dropped TJ against the wall, drew his weapon, and fired at the man in one smooth motion. The man went down but Tony could hear more footsteps growing louder. 

 

“Damn!” he hissed. Of course there wasn’t any more helpful exit signs. In Tony’s experience, however, moving away from the gunfire was always a good plan. A good way not to get shot. He dragged TJ as quickly as he could. Quickly wasn’t fast enough. The only way to increase their speed was if he carried TJ. Unfortunately, Tony was three inches too short and twenty years too old. But he’d be damned if he let that stop him. He manhandled TJ into a fireman’s carry, ignored the way his back flaring with pain, and walked steadily down the hall. 

 

_ “Daddy!” Tony rocked back on his heels when TJ barreled into his legs. Small arms wrapped around his knees. TJ smiled up at him with wide eyes. “You’re home!” _

 

_ “Course I am!” He tossed the boy in the air, eliciting a shriek of laughter. “Had to see my little boy.” Holding TJ an arm’s length away, he spun in tight circles. _

 

_ “Not little!” TJ squealed, swinging his leg and hitting Tony squarely in the chest. _

 

_ “Definitely not.” he wheezed. The kid packed quite a punch. _

 

_ TJ smacked his arm excitedly. “Me and Mom went to the library after school and I got five-” he held up the correlating fingers- “new books!” _

 

_ He swung TJ down and planted a kiss on his hair. “The school one or the other one?” _

 

_ “The other one!” He grabbed his arm and tugged, planting his feet and leaning as far as he could. As if pulling harder would make his father move faster. Tony grinned, waiting until TJ stopped moving, and yanked him forward and swept his son over his shoulders. _

 

_ “Hang on. Let me say hi to your mom and then you can show me all those books you got. Deal?” _

 

_ “Deal!” _

 

God. How old was TJ? Couldn’t have been more than five or six. When was the last time his boy was that happy to see him? Definitely before high school. TJ was always clever. He knew something was off about his old man years before the trial. 

 

Once he got out of prison and was living with TJ, the best they could do was a strained balance. TJ smothered him. Tony blew off his warnings and told him to wear his vest. Until that cop was shot with TJ’s gun and a working relationship was developed.

 

Just because Tony was dirty didn’t diminish his truly impressive expertise in the field. Having some extra help and influence didn’t replace the skills a detective needs. So while unexpected that TJ stooped to a disgraced captain, it wasn’t a surprise. Pathological his son may be, he was no idiot. If there was a legal, rule abiding way to get more information or insight on a case, he’d take it. TJ wasn’t proud enough to let something stand in his way of solving a crime or preventing one.

 

They were improving. Not perfect, but then again, who is?

 

“C’mon kid! We’re almost there.” He peered around the corner, clearing it. “What do you say, you convince me you’re not getting brain damage and I’ll never drag you to a poker night ever again? Sounds fair to me.” Another explosion of gunfire. “You know what? You don’t have to convince me. Just say something and I’ll never convince you make bad business deals with me. Or tease you for waiting at that broken light.” Tony’s voice cracked. “Hell, if you make any noise right now, I’ll never break another rule. I swear, I’ll go as straight as you. I’ll go so straight you’ll look crooked.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Kid!” Tony cursed under his breath. This was bad. This was really bad. The gunfire was dying down, which meant less bullets, but he had no way of tracking where the goons were. Paranoia dotted his steps. Doors lining the hallway hid potential combatants. The lights flickered. Bursts of gunfire, faded and grew further apart. There was no way to map the building, no way of knowing where the exit was, no way of discerning if the shadows hid a person.

 

Just how long was this hallway? He had been walking for hours, it felt. Tony was going to have to get a back transplant after this. 

 

A particularly nasty twinge forced him to set TJ down. He couldn’t keep carrying him. At least not on his shoulders. He looped TJ’s arm around his neck and wrapped his own around TJ’s waist. This would have to do. Tony focused on stepping one foot in front of another. The world shrunk until it was just him carrying the most important treasure. The kid was a pain in the ass, sure, but he was Tony’s pain in the ass. And family meant everything. Each step was a fight, a challenge to take his son away. Tony was a father. First and foremost, the highest ranking title. You’d pry it out of his cold dead hands.

 

A light shone down the hall and Tony snarled, ready to do battle. The light flashed over on to them. Tony tensed. He’d have to put TJ down to fight, but the only way to do that would be to drop him and Tony’d be damned if he was the one to add to his son’s injuries. No way could he set TJ down in time to fight, and running away was not an option. If it came down to it, he’d rather see TJ alive and damaged than whole in a casket.

 

“Mister C?” The light moved again, illuminating the stranger’s face. It was Cora. Back up had finally arrived.

 

Relief crashed into him like a semi and he sank to the ground, clutching TJ to his chest. “We made it, kid.” He began to shake. 

 

Cora crouched in front of him. “What’s wrong with him? Is he injured? How bad?” She reached for TJ and Tony growled at her. She recoiled. Their eyes met and Tony glared. When she spoke again, her voice was low and soothing, like she was talking to a victim. What a joke. “You have to let TJ go. It looks like his head got hit. He needs brain scans and tests and medical attention, Tony. We have to get him to a hospital.”

 

She was right, dammit, but he couldn’t let go. TJ was his burden and he was going to carry him. No one else.

 

“Looks like he needs a hospital, huh.” Tony almost snapped that she said that already when a different voice answered.

 

“Going into shock, probably.” And boy, Tony must really be out of it not to notice Burl come in. “Medics are on their way.” The detective looked more alarmed than Tony’d ever seen. In fact, it was the most emotion Tony’d seen on Burl ever. He’d have to be touched later.

 

He tried to talk, choked, cleared his throat, and tried again. “What happened?”

 

“We were hoping you’d tell us.” Burl looked steadily at him. Tony glared. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. The two stared at each other until Cora broke in.

 

“We got a tip that two gangs were blowing each other up. We had no clue the two of you were missing. We-” she indicated herself and Burl - “were called in for more manpower. The Chief tried contacting TJ but he never answered. She figured he was actually doing something and didn’t want to bother him.”

 

Tony absorbed the information quietly. Somehow, Simon screwed up badly enough that his rivals got the drop on him. A vicious satisfaction burned in his chest. The cops had been trying to nab him for years. Now he would spend the rest of his life in jail. The ultimate punishment for a man who fastidiously kept his hands clean.

 

He closed his eyes and dropped his face into TJ’s hair. They made it.

 

“Mister C?” Cora was crouched in front of him again. “The medics are here. They need to take TJ to the hospital.” He didn’t miss the look passed between Burl and Cora. He may be- only maybe!- in shock but he could still observe his surroundings. Two paramedics with grim expressions quickly checked TJ over, looking for spinal injuries or anything potentially fatal or that would hinder them from moving him. 

 

“Sir? You need to let him go.” One paramedic looked him in the eyes, calm and professional. “We need to get him to the hospital, and to do that we need him on the stretcher.”

 

Tony knew that, but he couldn’t seem to get his fingers to unclench. Slowly, agonizingly, he forced his cramped fingers to straighten. The medics gently took TJ’s weight from him and then they were situating him rapidly and hurrying to the ambulance outside, their movements betraying their urgency.

 

He sat there for a moment until comprehension dawned and he scrambled to his feet.

 

“Easy there, tiger.” Cora grabbed his arm. A good thing, because he would have fallen over. 

 

He snarled, “I’m going to ride with TJ.” He jerked his arm out of her grasp. One step and his knee gave out. He would have kissed the pavement for the second time but Burl caught him. Cora took his arm again.

 

“Course you are.”

 

Tony wanted to insist that he could walk to the ambulance himself, that he didn’t need help, but couldn’t get the words out. Maybe it was the comfort, illogical as it was, of his two friends at his side. Maybe it was the pain screaming in his back. Maybe it was the fact that his son’s life was in danger. Maybe it was the fact that his was too. Whatever it was, it cut off the denial before it formed. 

 

“Let us help you, Tony.”

 

He managed a shaky nod. 

 

The three walked outside, the night air refreshing. The street surrounding the warehouse was blocked off, a sea of police cruisers parked throughout. Several ambulances were on the sidewalk, as close as possible to the building. Perps were cuffed and being read their rights. 

 

Tony spotted one of the medics that took TJ and let go of Cora and Burl. His steps more sure, he followed the man to the ambulance. He grabbed the man’s shoulder.  

 

“I’m going with him.” 

 

“Sir, you’re not allowed in an ambulance without express permission from the victim.”

 

“I’m his father!”

 

The man briefly looked him over and decided that there wasn’t time to argue. “Get in quickly then, and stay out of the way.”

 

Tony had no intention of distracting the men working on his son. He sat next to TJ, close enough to wrap a hand around TJ’s. He clutched it tightly. Sometime during their escape, TJ had lost his glasses. Without them, he looked so young. Fragile. 

 

“We’re going to be okay, kid.” he murmured. “We’re going to be okay.”


End file.
